


The Art of Getting Down From Trees

by Eida



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eida/pseuds/Eida
Summary: A witch's cat is no ordinary cat.Unfortunately, they can still find themselves stuck up a tree.





	The Art of Getting Down From Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, mechanonymouse! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Alastair, crouching on the branch of the oak tree he'd so foolishly clambered up, thought he must be the most miserable cat in all the wide world. 

Absolutely nothing had gone right for him these last few days. First, he'd disturbed the salt border of his human's summoning circle, and a gremlin had gotten loose into the house—though luckily nothing had gone worse than a few pictures turned upside down and the sink springing a minor leak, and his human had said she was fairly certain the gremlin was gone now. But after that, when he tried to redeem himself by catching the mouse who'd made its nest somewhere in the walls, he'd managed to bump into the little endtable where his human's crystal ball had been sitting, and now it had a great crack through the middle, and he hadn't even managed to catch the mouse after all that. Boudica—the other cat who lived in the house, a great shaggy striped queen with only one ear—had scolded him on both occasions.

Surely, Alastair thought, his human—the witch called Lavender Ellwick—must have come to regret picking him up from the gutter, carrying him home, feeding him and petting him and saying words over him until—he didn't know how, but perhaps it had something to do with those words—he'd begun to _understand_ things in a way he never had before. After a few weeks in Lavender's home, Alastair had even found he could understand what Lavender was saying, and that she could understand him, as well.

 _But maybe she wishes she'd found another cat,_ Alastair thought, ears pinned back against his head as he watched the oncoming cloud front. It was going to rain; he could smell it in the air.

He hated the rain. He hated thunder, especially. It was so loud—and Boudica had laughed the last time a storm had come by and Alastair had about jumped out of his skin at a particularly loud rumble of thunder.

Though afterwards, she'd settled herself down next to him, started grooming him, and between rough licks of her tongue on the top of his head she told him a story about three kittens named Raincloud, Wind, and Lightning who made storms when they play-fought in the sky. It was a kitten story, and Alastair had been very nearly certain that he was too old for such things, but somehow it had made the storm seem a little less cold and frightening.

Boudica wasn't always the grouch she had looked like at first.

Even so, Alastair didn't like to think of what she would say if she saw him stuck up here.

Though Alastair supposed someone would have to see him, or else he was quite certain he'd be stuck in this tree forever.

Getting up had been a bit tricky, certainly, but he'd been so focused on his prey—a bright blue dragonfly that had buzzed up and landed on a branch—that he'd barely noticed. Lavender had mentioned that she was just about out of dragonfly wings, and Alastair thought, perhaps, if he could just bring her a few, he'd make up for the mischief he'd so recently caused.

But he hadn't been able to find the dragonfly once he'd gotten up here, and then when he'd looked down...

Well, he wasn't quite certain how he _could_ get down. He was awfully high up, and even if he knew he could land on his feet... he really didn't like the thought of falling so far.

Looking straight down for too long made him feel dizzy, so he mostly tried not to.

Instead, he looked up at the approaching rainclouds, which didn't really make him feel much better, and then out across the field.

There, in the distance, a human was approaching.

He could tell even from this distance that it was _his_ human, Lavender.

She'd help him, he was quite certain.

Even so, he crouched low on his branch, burning with shame.

What kind of cat _was_ he, who'd gotten up a tree and now couldn't get down?

He sat and waited, wondering what she was going to say.

At last Lavender stood beneath the branch which Alastair was stuck. Alastair looked down at her, and she looked up at him.

“Well,” she said. “Can you get yourself down?”

“I... I don't know,” Alastair admitted. He closed his eyes, digging his claws into the bark beneath him.

“Hm. Well, if it's any comfort, you're not the first cat to get stuck up that tree,” said Lavender.

Alastair's eyes snapped back open. “What?”

“You see, when I was a younger human, and Bou was a much younger cat, she used to be quite a huntress,” said the witch. “When she was a barely half-grown kitten, about your age, she chased a squirrel right up that tree, there. The squirrel, naturally, ran right down... but she found it wasn't so easy for her.”

Alastair tried to imagine grizzled old Boudica as a kitten and failed. It was almost as hard as trying to imagine _Lavender_ as a kitten.

“But I got her down, and she didn't make that mistake again. After that, she taught herself how to shimmy up and down a tree smooth as you like,” Lavender continued. “She's not much for climbing these days, but I'm sure she'd be willing to offer some advice, if you ask.”

Alastair really, really didn't want to tell Boudica about any of this.

“Still, if you're not able to climb down yourself, I've got another way. A bit of magic,” said Lavender. She rummaged around in her coat pockets. “Here we are.”

She pulled out a little bag tied tightly shut with a white string. “Try and catch this,” said Lavender. She tossed it up, and Alastair managed to snag it with his claws.

“What you need to do first,” Lavender said, “is put a paw on the bag.”

Alastair pinned the bag down on the branch with one paw.

“Now,” said Lavender, “I want you to think about things that float and fly. Birds, soap bubbles, dandelion seeds, butterflies, and other things like that.”

Alastair closed his eyes and did so—though he couldn't help but add dragonflies to that list.

“Hold them in your mind,” said Lavender. “Then I want you to repeat after me:

 _Slow as a feather_  
_Soft as a breeze_  
_Down to the good earth_  
_Down from the trees._ ”

“Slow as a feather, soft as a breeze, down to the good earth, down from the trees,” said Alastair, his tail lashing nervously.

“Say it again, two more times,” said Lavender. “And keep thinking of things that float while you do.”

“Slow as a feather...” Alastair repeated the incantation twice more. Was it just his imagination, or was he starting to feel a bit lighter?

“Now,” Lavender said, “grab the end of the string, and pull hard.”

Taking hold of the end of the bag's string with his teeth, Alastair yanked backwards, opening the bag--which appeared to contain a bit of down, a soap shaving, and a dragonfly wing--and this time he knew he wasn't imagining the magic that surged through him, making him feel oddly light.

“Good,” said Lavender. “What are you feeling?”

“Like... like I barely weigh anything,” said Alastair.

“Very good. Then come jump down. Would you like me to catch you?” Lavender asked.

Alastair considered this briefly. “Y-yes,” he said, steeling his courage. “You're sure this will work?”

“If you do it quickly. The spell will only hold for a few minutes. Plenty of time, if you jump now,” said Lavender.

Well, no more time to waste—taking the bag in his mouth, Alastair flung himself off from the branch... and began to float gently downwards. He pawed at the air as he fell, but found no purchase; even if he was sinking like he'd fallen into syrup (which he was glad he hadn't; the one time he'd gotten syrup in his fur, he'd had a dreadful time trying to clean it out), he wasn't able to swim in the air, which might have been fun.

Though maybe it was for the best—he really wouldn't have wanted the spell to expire when he was high in the air.

At last, he fell into Lavender's waiting arms. She cradled him against her shoulder, and Alastair sighed in relief.

“There you go,” said Lavender, gently taking the spell-bag with her free hand and tucking it into one of her pockets. “Shall I carry you in, or would you prefer to walk?”

“You can carry me,” said Alastair, shutting his eyes. Maybe it was slightly beneath his feline dignity, but he didn't much care at the moment. Lavender was warm, her coat was soft, she had all sorts of interesting scents on her from her errands in town earlier today, and he liked how he could feel her heartbeat right now.

“All right then, dearie,” said Lavender, walking back towards the house at a measured pace.

“You... you won't tell Boudica about this, will you?” Alastair asked.

“No. It's your tale to tell, or not,” Lavender replied. “Mind you, I don't know that she needs telling. She's the one that mentioned you might be out around the old oak tree, and she always seems to know everything that goes on around here. Or most of it, anyways.”

“Oh.” Alastair deflated slightly.

“She said you'd been practicing your hunting. She says she thinks you'll be a fine hunter, one day, once you've grown into yourself a bit more,” said Lavender.

Alastair's ears perked up. “She did?”

“Yes. And I trust her judgement,” said Lavender. “Don't let this little mishap get you down—or any of the others you've had these last few days. There's no permanent harm done, and even then, everyone makes mistakes. You're still a kitten, though quite a bit grown since I brought you home, and no kitten I've ever known has gotten through their youth without a few messes made along the way. Here we are; I'll put you down now.” They'd reached the door at last.

Lavender gently set Alastair down on the wooden porch floor and opened the back door. Alastair slipped in, followed close behind by Lavender.

There was already a fire going in the fireplace; Boudica had taken up her customary spot on the rug in front of it. She looked over at the two as they entered, blinking slowly, but saying nothing as she turned her gaze back to the fire.

“You know, Alastair” said Lavender, once they were both inside, “it won't be long until you'll be able to cast spells on your own.”

“Really?” said Alastair.

“Yes, certainly,” said Lavender. “Cat magic's a bit different from human magic, but we've got enough in common that I can teach you some things.”

“And I expect I'll be teaching you a few more,” said Boudica, looking back at them. “Once you have the basics down.” She got up, stretched, and padded over to Lavender, giving her shins a friendly headbutt and sniffing at Alastair before giving him a few quick grooming licks behind his ears. “You seem a quick enough study, and I'll grant I've never seen you make the same mistake twice.”

Alastair, pleased at the unexpected praise, gave a brief, rumbling purr.

Lavender reached down to pet both cats. “Now, I think I'll put a kettle on for tea.”

Later that night, as Alastair sat in Lavender's lap and she read to him from a book titled _A Beginner's Guide to Witchery_ —he hadn't picked up the knack of reading, yet—he thought, if he was not the happiest cat in all the wide world, he was probably not too far off.


End file.
